


How Lethal Weapon is a Chick Flick

by sammichgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wincest - Freeform, holiday snippet, season 4, wincestmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9241274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/pseuds/sammichgirl
Summary: Season four based Christmas snippet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Wincestmas 2015 on tumblr as a gift for random-fireworks.

After the hunt of the siren, Sam and Dean were on edge, snippy with each other, not seeming to find the balance back to where they’d been before. To be perfectly honest, they really hadn’t found that balance since Dean had returned from Hell and they had been walking a fine line of tension that exploded after the siren had infected them both. 

They’d said they were good, but in typical Winchester fashion, that meant they were anything but.

A call from Bobby had them making their way to Wyoming. The drive was long and quiet, both brothers being stubborn and not willing to bend. The December weather welcomed them with snow through Nebraska, as the local radio stations churned out age old Christmas tunes. The first motel they checked in to, Dean got their standard room, dropped off their gear and headed out to the nearest bar without a word. 

Sam could feel the pensive itch under his skin. He booted up the laptop, ready to start digging into research, breaking to check news and weather, before letting the TV play through a Lethal Weapon movie marathon. When he couldn’t concentrate on another article, he focused on Riggs and Murtaugh – men that fought side by side, even through their arguments, and bonded, becoming brothers in all but blood. Now feeling even more melancholy, he decided a hot shower might help him shake it off, and made his way to the bathroom.

_______

Dean needed a couple stiff drinks. Well, what he really needed was to let off some steam, but there didn’t appear to be anyone willing to help him out there. The bar was practically empty, no one playing at the pool tables, no flirting ladies about to fall for his charm.

He downed a couple shots before chasing them with a beer, thinking he ought to just head back and let the chips fall where they may. He knew his little brother better than anyone, and could count on the fact that he was brooding in the motel room. Things between them were coming to a head, and Dean didn’t want to fight him, not again, not after the last hunt. He was tired of not being in sync with Sam, nothing felt right, and everything felt off. He wanted his little brother back. More than that, he wanted them back.

After finishing his second beer he paid his tab and made his way back to the motel. He steeled himself for the epic bitchface he knew was coming, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

_____

Glancing inside the room and not immediately seeing Sam, Dean drew his gun and made his way inside. He took a quick review of the room – empty beer bottles on the nightstand, the TV on and Sam’s clothes folded on the bed. His clothes – that meant – Dean took soft steps towards the bathroom and nudged the slightly open door a bit more. He could hear the shower running, and behind the opaque shower curtain Sam’s body was outlined by the shoddy lighting.

Dean took a deep breath and stepped away, relief coursing through him, quickly replaced by arousal he tried and couldn’t tamp down. That wasn’t the solution right now, would more than likely only lead to angry sex and resentment later. He grabbed a beer from the green cooler and sat down on the bed opposite Sam’s, kicking off his shoes and thinking a hot shower would do him a world of good himself.

Looking over at the TV, he smiled seeing Riggs and Murtaugh taking out the bad guys onscreen. Sam’s taste in music might be crap, but he knew a good movie when he saw one. Dean muted the volume, content to just enjoy the quiet as he let his eyes close. After a few moments, he heard soft sniffles coming from the bathroom. The water had been turned off, and the unmistakable growing sound of crying could be heard. 

Sam was crying.

Instinct had Dean up and at the bathroom door in a split second, worry all over his face as he rushed in. His world was on the floor of the bathtub, huddled into the smallest form he could make himself, rocking as he tried to hold back the sobs wracking through him, not even looking up to acknowledge Dean was there.

Dean didn’t wait, he climbed into the tub fully clothed to wrap himself around Sam. Images of having calmed Sam down in such a manner over a lifetime flooded through him, and he found himself rocking along with Sam, running his hands through his dripping locks, making shushing noises. Sam was physically ok, he’d done a quick check to make sure straight off, so whatever it was, it was emotional. And for his little brother to break like this, it was big. He didn’t ask questions, just held on and waited for Sam to exhaust himself. 

When Sam had grown quiet aside from a small hiccup now and then, Dean was rubbing Sam’s bare back, and Sam’s hair had dried into an unruly mess of waves. When Sam lifted his head from Dean’s chest, the break of warmth from being cocooned made his skin break out in goosebumps. Dean just shook his head to stave off talking and herded Sam to a standing position before walking him over to one of the beds. He got Sam under the blankets before stripping down himself, then climbed in to tuck himself against Sam again.

“Wanna talk about it?” He kept his voice light. Sam always wanted to talk, and oddly Dean hoped he would this time too.

“I don’t even know, Dean. I was just – I was watching the movie, you know? I was just gonna take a hot shower and think about things with us. What’s been going on and isn’t being said. Just trying to find a way back to where everything wasn’t so damn broken.”

“Yeah, ok, I get that. It’s actually why I came back to the room early. But what happened, man?” Dean felt Sam turn so they were facing each other.

“Riggs and Murtaugh.”

“What?”

“It’s gonna sound like a chick flick.” Sam sighed, he didn’t know how to explain it any other way. The emotions he’d been stifling about him and Dean, something in him had just crumbled thinking about how these guys faced the bad guys all the time and still were each other’s constant, through anything. 

Dean tried to hold back a grin. That right there was his little brother. The put-upon sigh, the bitchface that was only at level one, the tone in his voice that sounded like he knew Dean was going to tease him. So just a little nudge then…

“You saying you got all mopey because seeing them get hurt made you sad?” Still keeping his voice light, Dean reached out a hand to cup Sam’s face.

“Something like that,” came the embarrassed mumbled reply. Sam had shifted his eyes down, and Dean tilted his face back up to make eye contact. Things were getting clearer.

“Because they’re a team, right? Partners come what may?” Dean watched Sam’s eyes shine again with the threat of tears. “C’mere, Sammy.” He pulled Sam to him, tucking his head under his chin. 

They were making up, in their own way. Dean no longer felt it was a hands off situation, in fact, they connected so much better with touch. Sometimes they both forgot that in midst of arguing, but when they both had time to think and stew and settle down, touch was the one thing that made everything clear again. It wasn’t a night for anything but reassurance, so he tangled his legs with Sam’s, and let his hand find Sam’s heartbeat. He dropped a soft kiss to the top of Sam’s head and hugged him tightly.

Dean knew they still had to actually talk. It could wait until morning. Right now they needed each other in ways only they knew how to heal, the one they fought for time after time.


End file.
